The Piano Man (Iwaoi)

Chapter 22

        Tooru, at eleven years old, had fallen unconscious again during piano practice, after almost 24 hours straight, but his parents decided not to take him to a hospital. They kept him at home, in bed, made him drink a lot of water and practically force-fed him, even though he was uncomfortable and his throat was dry and swallowing brought tears to his eyes. Loneliness joined him in that bed, where he stared at the ceiling and wished that he were playing piano because at least then he would be doing something, anything, to relieve the itch perpetually sitting on his fingertips. Over and over he counted the scratches in the ceiling, wiping away his tears with the back of his hands. When would he learn that it never really helped? Sitting at the piano for hours and hours until his fingers hurt and his eyes became blurry and he couldn't sit straight anymore? It never helped. The music never quite sounded the way that he wanted it to.

        At around noon, while he sniffled, the door to his bedroom opened. He was about to tell his mother to leave, tell her he wanted to be alone, but it wasn't his mother at the door. It was Hajime, little fingers cautious on the doorknob.

        "Iwa-chan!" Tooru called, sitting up.

        "Your mom told me I could come up," he said. He closed the door behind him and nervously rocked back and forth on his heels. "I got worried when you weren't at school."

        "Oh."

        "At least it's not the hospital this time," he said.

        "Yeah. I guess so."

        There was silence for a little bit, and Tooru felt the burst of energy subside, so he collapsed back onto the bed and continued staring at the ceiling. It was a little bit better now that Hajime was in the room.

        "You shouldn't keep doing this, you know," Hajime said.

        "I know."

        "You make everyone worry."

        Tooru grinned.

        "Even you?"

        "Obviously! Otherwise I wouldn't be here."

        "Hey, Iwa-chan. Come onto the bed with me."

        "Gross."

        "I don't have a cold or anything, silly, just dehydration."

        Another moment of silence, and Tooru could just imagine Hajime's little grumpy pout. But then the bed moved, and in the next moment, Hajime was laying on his back right beside Tooru. Now they stared at the ceiling together. The air was warmer and sweeter, and suddenly Tooru's throat didn't feel quite so dry.

        "Thanks for coming," he said.

        "I was just bored."

        "You're a terrible liar."

        He glanced over and, sure enough, Hajime's lower lip was jutted out overdramatically and his hands were folded anxiously on his belly.

        "What were you playing? When you passed out?"

        "Moonlight Sonata by Beethoven."

        "How is it that I've been friends with you for so long, and still don't understand a word you say?"

        "Come on, you've definitely heard of Beethoven."

        Hajime shrugged, his mouth now cupped into a small smile.

        "Maybe I should just stay with you all the time and make sure you take breaks. You're so stupid, that seems like the only way to get you to take care of yourself."